


A mother's prayer

by aewal



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 10:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15639048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aewal/pseuds/aewal
Summary: Based on the scene in 3x02 where Catelyn tells Talisa about Jon.





	A mother's prayer

**Author's Note:**

> The scene was one of my favourites! Catelyn gets a lot of hate because of how she treated Jon and yeah, let's be honest, she was a b**ch. But I feel like her feelings were more complex than they let us know. I'm pretty sure she would be a great a mother to Jon, had she known the truth - not that I'm trying to justify her actions.  
> Anyway, here's a glimpse of my imagination. I hope you'll like it.  
> Reviews much appreciated! :)

Catelyn walked down the hallway to Ned and her’s bedroom. The hallway never seemed longer than right now when she was just about to give birth to another child. Her belly was big and low and maester Luwin said the child would come any day now. She put her hand on her belly and smiled. On one hand she was happy to have her child inside her, safe, where no one could hurt it. On the other, as she felt the weight pressing on her back, she wished she could already hold her son or daughter in her arms.

She entered the room and was glad her handmaiden helped her change into her nightgown and brushed her hair. “My husband?” he asked her.

“With the boy... His son,” the woman clarified.

Catelyn nodded. Of course he was with Jon. “You can go.”

“As it pleases my lady,” the woman said and left her.

Catelyn watched her leave and close the door. She looked towards the bed. This was the third night Ned didn’t come to bed at evening. She understood him to some extent, yet couldn’t help but feel bad about it. She was his wife and they already had a son and a daughter. They were a family. Instead of saying goodnight to Robb and little Sansa, he was next to his son. Not their son, but _his_ only. She swallowed hard as she remembered the boy. _Jon._ He was just a boy, an innocent child, she knew that, yet he had more of Ned than any of _her_ children. Robb and Sansa both had her eyes and her hair, nothing of Ned’s. Again, the boy wasn’t guilty of that but that didn’t make her hate him any less.

She felt guilty about feeling that way but she couldn’t find it in her heart to change her point of view. She tried but she couldn’t. Even accepting Theon Greyjoy who was just a bit older than Robb was easier. _Of course it was, he isn’t Ned’s._ Accepting Jon though... Catelyn couldn’t help but think about who the boy’s mother is. Ned never told her despite her asking angrily about it. Who was the woman that made Ned forget his honour? Catelyn’s husband was an honourable man, yet she knew he wouldn’t dishonour himself because of her. Why did he forget about his honour with a stranger? Probably a woman he saw once in his life?

Ned loved Catelyn, she was certain of that. But did he love the other woman more? Was she dead or still alive?

Catelyn put her hand on her stomach, feeling the babe kicking inside. _Just a bit more and I will be able to hold you in my arms._ She decided to check on Robb and Sansa and then find her husband.

When she opened the door to Robb’s room, he was fast asleep on his back, his mouth slightly opened. She smiled when she heard the soft snores coming out of his mouth. Robb was just a boy, yet he was a kind boy and a fierce man already. She could have never wished for a better son. She closed the door and proceeded to check on Sansa. Her little girl was sleeping on her side, clutching a doll beside her. Catelyn entered the room and gently swiped Sansa’s auburn hair from her face. Her daughter didn’t even move. She smiled and caressed her daughter’s cheek before she went away. She stopped at the door, took one last peek and closed the door.

Catelyn proceeded down the hallway to Jon’s room. She opened it and found Ned sitting by the bed, his head resting in his hands on the bed. The boy was lying in his bed, covered in furs. His forehead was dripping wet from sweat and his breathing scared her. There were many times she selfishly wished Jon would die. But as she saw him now... She had to swallow a lump in her throat.

He was just a boy.

She wished he would die. And now he was actually dying.

It was her fault. It was all her fault.

Ned turned his head as he heard footsteps. Seeing his wife, he looked down. He never she was never fond of Jon.

“How is he?” she asked, surprising him.

“Maester Luwin said if he makes it through the night, he’ll live. It doesn’t look good,” Ned confessed.

Catelyn turned towards the boy. All she could hear were little whimpers. A dirty cough that came out of Jon sent shivers down her spine. “You should go rest.”

“No,” Ned shook his head.

“I’ll stay.”

“Cat, you’re about to give birth.”

“Our child is keeping me awake at nights regardless if I lie or sit,” she insisted.

Ned looked towards Jon. He has always been so strong, since the day he held him in Dorne for the first time. Half wolf and half dragon... _Please, Lyanna, watch after your son. Don’t take him yet._

“Ned,” Catelyn gazed at him with a small smile.

“Alright,” he agreed. Maybe his wife was finally coming to terms that he was his son. _He isn’t my son though. Rhaegar was his father, not me. But no one can know, not even Cat. I promised Lyanna. It would be too dangerous._ “Send for me if anything happens. Or if you want to lie down, eh?” he stood up and smiled. He kissed her then caressed her belly. “Don’t trouble your mother,” he whispered to it, making Catelyn smile.

“We’ll be alright,” she assured him as he walked away. Once he left the room, she sat down on the chair and covered herself with a blanket. It was cosy and warm here. The fire was crackling in the fire pit. Winter was coming to an end and the days and nights were growing warmer. Despite the warmth in the room, the boy kept trembling and his forehead was full of sweat.

Catelyn took a cloth by the bed and wiped the sweat of Jon’s forehead. It seemed to reappear the moment she removed it. She sat back down, knowing there was nothing she could do. Even maester Luwin said he couldn’t help him. All she could was sit back and watch him tremble, listen him cough.

It was her fault.

A fortnight before Catelyn had prayed to the Gods. She prayed for her husband and for her children. She prayed for her father, her sister and her brother. She prayed for herself and for the babe inside of her. She even prayed for Theon. The poor boy was scared to death when they brought him to Winterfell.

But she also prayed for Jon. She prayed she would never have to see him again. Cat hoped he would somehow disappear. Death, that’s what she prayed for. After all those years it still hurt. It still hurt to see him. He didn’t particularly resemble Ned but still more than her children. Those brown eyes and that curly black hair...

The same curls that were now drenched in sweat on Jon’s forehead.

It was her fault.

She was a terrible woman. She prayed for an innocent child’s death. A child who never did any harm to her or her loved ones. Quite the contrary – he was like a trueborn brother to Robb; always respectful, loving, playing with him, laughing. He wasn’t even annoyed by Sansa. Robb would sometimes get tired of his little sister but Jon never did. He let her pull on his hair and Catelyn... She didn’t say anything. She wished Sansa would pull harder, she wished she’d see him cry.

When she remembered that, Catelyn felt ill. How could she think like that? Was she even thinking at all? She looked at Jon. He was in the bed, lying almost as if he were dead. If it weren’t for the coughing and sweating, one would think of him as dead. He was so pale.

It was her fault.

The sounds of whimpering interrupted her thoughts. “Mmmm,” Jon mumbled in his sleep. He was in pain or maybe delusional from the fever.

Catelyn rose as quickly as her big belly allowed her too. Once again she wiped the sweat from the boy’s forehead but he kept whimpering. “Shh, it’s alright,” she said quietly, “It’s alright.”

She put the strands of hair away from his face, the same way she did sooner with Sansa. It made her realize that they weren’t any different. They were just children, no matter their fathers or mothers. No children deserved to be this sick, to suffer like this. She was a terrible woman for ever wishing so. She imagined a stranger out there wishing her children were dead. No... That was just wrong.

“I’m here,” she said, noticing the boy still didn’t calm down. She used those words whenever Robb or Sansa would have bad dreams. It made them feel better. But this wasn’t a dream. It was a cruel reality.

And it was her fault.

After Jon somehow calmed down, Catelyn sat back in the chair. There was nothing for her to do but pray.

_I have prayed many times but this time it’s different. This time I am praying for his life. If any of you can hear, please grant me this: let the boy live. I never meant for him to die. He is just a child. Let him live. Let him play with his siblings. Let him have the lessons with maester Luwin. Let him practice with ser Rodrik. Let him eat and drink well and let him sleep. Let him grow up into an honourable man like his father. Let him marry a decent girl and have as many children as they want._

_I was foolish. I have sinned. And now I am sorry. I see things clearly now. He is a child._

_And I am a mother._

_Not his mother but..._

_If you let him live, I’ll be a mother to him. I will love him. He deserves that and much more._ Catelyn swallowed hard. _I’ll ask Ned to give him the Stark name. He is just as much a Stark as Robb or Sansa or the little one I am carrying. He is half wolf just like them._

_Let him live and it will all be different._

Catelyn started crying. This was probably the first time she had seen things completely different than ever before. She was willing to give it a try – she truly was. The guilt consumed her so hard. She was a murderer. If this boy died, it would be because of her.

_It is all my fault._

She had spent the rest of the night praying, wiping Jon’s forehead and whispering soothing words to him. She made a praying wheel for the first time in her life. Catelyn never left. Only did she realize she had spent the whole night there when a new day was arising outside. Maester Luwin came to check on Jon that morning and notified her that his fever had broken.

Jon would live.

Never in her life had Catelyn been so relieved. But with relief, there also came pain; a pain that she knew all too well. The babe was ready to come out.

By the end of the day, she gave birth. It was painful but quicker than when she had to deliver Robb or Sansa. It was said that with every child birthing would get easier and quicker and it had proven true so far.

As Cat lied in bed, leaned on the back of the bed with Ned beside her, holding their newborn daughter, she couldn’t help but feel blessed. Immensely blessed, actually. She smiled at Ned holding their daughter – Arya, they had named her. Unlike her older brother and sister, Arya was already a spitting image of Ned. She had his eyes and his hair. Catelyn could swear even her nose and ears were just like Ned’s. She had finally given birth to a Stark – not just in name – but also in looks.

She tried to utter the words she had promised the Gods before. _Make your son a Stark, Ned._ She couldn’t. _I’ll be a mother to him._ She could never be that. _I’ll love him._ She could never love those brown stranger eyes.

Catelyn thought Jon resembled Ned in some way but seeing Arya... Jon wasn’t a Stark. _And he never will be._


End file.
